Reality
by TheWhiteCrayon
Summary: Everybody thinks Tori Vega is happy. Everyone thinks she is perfect. But is she really? And what is real, anyway? THREE-SHOT, now! ;)
1. reality

**Okay, so this is a one-shot about Tori that I wrote in class today, cause I was bored :)**

 **It's kinda short, but I hope you'll like it anyway.**

 **Disclaimer: O, I totally own Victorious. I'm also a millionaire who lives on the moon with my pet-unicorn.**

 _Reality_

There are two realities, both named Tori Vega. They're both equally true, equally current and equally happening. They're both equally real. There are two realities. But one of them is fake, fake, fake. One of them is... Happiness. I guess that's the best way to describe it. One of them has a lot of friends and a loving family. One of them is all fun. That Tori Vega is sweet, goofy, romantic, pretty, reliable, honest and perfect. And it is a reality. Because everybody knows it's the truth. Everybody knows that's me. And there are no secrets. But the other reality is different. It's lonely. There is no love, no pleasure. This Tori Vega doesn't deserve things like that. Because her reality is evil. This reality is full of secrets. Sad, horrible secrets. In fact, it is made of these secrets. This reality isn't pretty. It's the ugliest thing alive. That's why I hide it, far, far away in the back of my heart. Because this reality isn't honest either. I'm a liar and nobody knows. All those people who think they love me, they should really hate me instead. But they don't, because they don't know. They don't know the other reality. They don't know the tears of desperation. They don't know the cuts and the blood and the relief they bring. They don't know the scars, on my skin and on my heart. They don't know the silent, depressing prayers at night. They don't know anything about that. They don't know anything about me. Because everything is a lie. Even my life, my reality. O, I could easily destroy this reality build up out of secrets and lies, by simply being honest. With that same honesty the other reality is so proud of. But I won't. I can't. Because I know that if I do, I'll destroy everything with it. I know that if I do, I'll also destroy the beautiful reality, which I so desperately need. So I don't. Because I'm a coward. That's all I've ever been. The rest is pretend, the rest is a fake. All that you think is sweet about me, or reliable, or perfect, is a fake. And it fades away as soon as I am alone. Because that's when the truth crawls in. This is the reality that only exists when I'm alone. And I hate this reality. I hate myself.

 **So, what did you think? It's darker than anything I've written before. Did you like it? Should I write more stories like this one?**

 **Anyway, thanks for reading this!**


	2. Sorry that I am not that strong

**Okay, so this was originally going to be a oneshot, but then I thought of this, and it just totally belonged with this story, so I decided to make it a twoshot.**

 **Also, this is my first experience with writing in the third person. (He/she, I mean.) So, I hope it worked out.**

She grabbed the knife. Just to look at it. Just to hold it. She wouldn't do anything. She could be strong. She looked at the older cuts. She wouldn't open them. The knife softly touched her skin. How good it felt; the cold metal on her bare wrist. It slowly drew a line across one of the scars. She wouldn't press through, tough, she wouldn't bleed. She drew the line again. Again. She had to stop now, or she'd break skin. She could do that. She could be strong. One more time. She pressed a little harder. Just one last time. Suddenly everything was blurry. It was like a dream. Was this even happening? Was the blood really streaming down her arm? Couldn't it be her imagination? It probably was. It wasn't real. She opened another scar with the knife. The blood was so beautiful. The pain felt so good. This couldn't be real, it was just a dream. But the wounds, they seemed so real. She looked at the bloody knife. Tears filled her eyes, as she threw it across the room. She had done it again. She broke her promise. And it was real. It was all real. Later, she'd tell herself that it wasn't. That it was only her imagination. And that she was okay. That she could be strong. And she would almost believe it, too. But right now, just for a moment, she knew. She knew what she'd done, and that it was all real. Because she had failed, she had given in. And she was not okay. She buried her face in her hands. "I'm sorry God." She whispered. "I'm sorry that I'm not that strong."

 **And, what did you think? Like it? Hate it?**

 **Either way, thanks for reading.**


	3. the end

**I have been asked to write one more chapter for this story, so it'll have a decent ending. But this will** ** _really_** **be the last chapter in this story. And, yes. I do know I have said that before. Only this time it's true. (Probably ;))**

 _Dear_ everyone.

I'm sorry. Let me start with telling you that. I'm sorry. I never wanted to leave you all. But to me, there was no other option. I love you all, and I'm ever so sorry I had to go away. But it's for the best, believe me. It's what's best for all of us. Because I know you love me. I k _now. But that's just wrong. None of_ you should love me, and if you only knew the truth, you wouldn't. Nobody would. If only you knew my secrets... I can't live _with them_ anymore. I can't live a lie any longer. You see, you all think I'm pretty. But I'm not. It's all make up. It's a lie. You think I'm sweet. But really I'm not. I betray you, by keeping secrets, by lying about how I feel. It's all a lie. You think I'm honest, but I'm not. I deceive you, I lie to you, _every day_. _It's a_ lie. You think I'm fine, you think I'm happy. But nothing could be further from the truth, it's a lie. Everybody thinks I'm perfect. But I'm just not. I want to be perfect, I want to do everything right, but I never can. So I fake it. I pretend that I'm perfect, but I'm not. I'm a fake. Nothing you see about me is real. Except my love. My love for all of you is real. You need to know that's true. I love you. But that's just not enough for me. I don't know why it isn't, but it's not. My life is still a fake. I'm still not perfect. I still hate myself. And I can't do it anymore. I'm sorry, but I have to do this. I have to go. Maybe I'll see you all again someday, in whatever comes next. And if I do, I hope you'll still love me, and somehow have been able to forgive me. So that we can all be happy again, together. But, in some twisted way, I _also_ hope _this'll_ never happen. I hope there is no afterlife. This may sound strange to you, but I'm tired. I just want to sleep. I just need my rest, I need piece. I don't want to have to be perfect _all the time_ anymore. I don't want to exist _anymore_. And no matter how much it hurts me to leave you all behind, I comfort myself with the thought that it's over now. That I'm done. That soon, I'll be able to close my eyes, and then I'll never have to open them again. It's the most beautiful thing I've ever felt. And I want you to know that, now, while I'm so close to death, _I think_ I can finally say; I'm happy. And I don't have to lie about it.

The note was written in a shaky handwriting. It was laying on the table, right next to the bed in Tori's room. On the bed itself, lay a pale, young girl, barely recognizable as Tori Vega. If you wouldn't take a close look at her, you could almost think she was asleep. But she wasn't asleep. She looked too pale, and felt too cold to be asleep. The scars on her wrists had been opened once again. Only this time, the cuts were too long and too deep, and the pool of blood was too big. Next to her lay a sharp, bloody knife. The knife that had brought her relief so many times before. And the knife that had now brought her happiness, by taking away her life. Tori Vega was death. She was gone forever. She wasn't looking down from heaven while her friends and family were crying at her funeral. She wasn't wearing angel's wings as she guided her loved ones through hard times. There was no real happiness for her to find in another life. She just stopped existing. But that was okay. Because for the first time in a long time, the body of Tori Vega was wearing a faint, but real smile. And it would stay there forever. It was no happily ever after. But that's just reality.

 **Okay, the end! Again! (No, seriously, this time it's true.)**

 **And, what did you think? Do you find this a better ending?**


End file.
